The morning after the leak dawned grey and cold, a fitting mirror for the atmosphere that had settled over the Academy. I had slept fitfully, if at all, my dreams haunted by staring eyes and reaching hands. The whispers had continued long into the night, a constant, low murmur beneath my window, outside my door, and in the very walls of the building. I was a prisoner of my own legend, and the bars were made of awe.
Sir Edric brought my breakfast with a face grimmer than usual. He set the tray down and stood by the door, his hand on his sword, his gaze fixed on some middle distance that held more meaning than the present.
"There is a delegation from the Church," he said quietly. "They arrived at dawn. Templars. A full contingent. They are meeting with the headmaster now."
